


Scared the Rat

by DeathDirt



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-17 21:52:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10602984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathDirt/pseuds/DeathDirt
Summary: I NO LONGER CARE! F*CKING OVERWATCH HAS CONSUMED MY LIFE! HAVE SOME GOD D*MN ROADRAT FOR SH*TS AND GIGGLES!





	

**Author's Note:**

> I NO LONGER CARE! F*CKING OVERWATCH HAS CONSUMED MY LIFE! HAVE SOME GOD D*MN ROADRAT FOR SH*TS AND GIGGLES!

_Cowardly rat._  
Jamie could hear the baleful voice in his head, angry at him for leaving the comfort of his own little bed - well...pile of blanket scraps, but still - just to squirm his way beneath Mako's big protective arm. It felt safe under here. It felt...less upsetting. Junkrat grumbled to himself, muttering all sorts of curses, starting with simple things like "bullshit", "damned coward", "real rat you are, mate, real fuckin' great rat you are". It escalated a little, but he never allowed his voice to go loud enough so as to wake Roadhog. That'd be mean, on _top_ of being a total bitch about this. He was hunkering down, half-heartedly pulling his pile of scraps over his body, simply trying to ignore the loud rumble that was steadily fading. This was just plain stupid. He was the infamous, world-renowned Junkrat, Jamison Fawkes, the Dynamite Rodent, the Hell-Welcoming-Committee. And he was scared like a kitten right now.

Of...thunder.

It ticked him off like nobody would believe. Jamie could handle frags, mines, dynamite, hell, _missiles and atomic bombs_ didn't bother him a bit. But thunder? Nope. No, no, no, _heeeeeeell_ no. He hated it. And somehow, even though he knew he'd never told a goddamn _soul_ , Hog knew. Which is why they were currently bunked in an old sewer pipe that stopped getting runoff long ago. It helped, but not much. He could hear the booming noise, feel it in his bones, feel the shaking even from far-off blasts of lightning. And that was something else Jamie couldn't stand. Lightning was a-okay with him. He could sit and stare at flashes of lightning all day if he had to. The thunder that came after it? Not a chance.

Finally, the little bout of squeezing came along that always did whenever this happened. It sent a little sigh of relief flooding out of Junkrat. Hog was quiet, a total bad-ass, the perfect bodyguard, but there was one thing missing. The whole, "you're-gonna-eventually-die-without-me" deal that came with all paid bodyguards. Junkrat knew better, though. He know his big guy wouldn't kick the bucket. And if he did? Well, he'd be kicking that same bucket. With a frag. ...Or five.

Another boom of thunder sent Junkrat squealing, trying to bury himself in Roadhog's mighty bulk. Practically shaking now. Why couldn't he have normal fears? Spiders or snakes? _No, no, ya can't be afraid of furry buggers like that when you're from the ol' Outback. E'rything's tryna eat'cha, so ya don't really have room to be afraid'a the furry ones._ Thunder. Why not heights? Heights worked. _Then ya wouldn't be gettin' where ya can't go. Like the ol' suits 'n their fancy-asses._ Strike heights. Strike bears and cold and heat and self and love... But not thunder. Not thunder. One would think that a loving obsession over explosions would cure that in a jiff.

Guess not, though.

The next rumble was further off, so Jamie didn't jump so much, but he still stayed nestled where he was, trying to press further into the massive body of his good mate even though he really couldn't go any further without running the risk of getting the air squished right out of him.

Thunder.

The magic fuckin' trigger. If anyone got wind of the whole thunder-o-phobia, then Junkrat would never survive! Either from ridicule or all the outlaws and bounty-hunters after him that would run him into the stormiest, nastiest places on Earth. That would complicate things. Ten minutes went by without any sign of more rumbling. Jamie finally began to settle back down into sleep... Then BOOM. Another roar. It blasted his ears like a kamikaze troop he ran with once. Key word there? 'Once'. _That_ was some permanent damage he couldn't fix. Jamie finally made some kind of noise other than cursing. It was whimpering, and he hated it, but it was an old habit. They died hard. Even after throwing them into a dark pit where nobody would ever find them, tossing in a few grenades along with them for good measure, blowing the whole thing up, burying it, and adding a stick of dynamite like a candle on a cake. He shut his eyes, clamped them tightly shut and tried to think back, but the minute he did, more thunder rolled along. Angry, mean, nasty thunder. 

Roadhog pulled Jamie tighter, closer to him. It almost forced every little bit of hair from his lungs, but that was an 'almost'. Thankful for protection, Junkrat accepted the forceful affection, burying his tiny tiny face into Hog's giant giant neck. The rumbling seemed to die away. It seemed to get disinterested, even. The thunder tried to blast through a few more times, but no more than a few. Roadhog covered Junkrat's head to do his best to protect him from the invading noises. It helped. A lot. Junkrat was snoring as the night sky cleared. Roadhog almost wanted to hit himself. He was wide awake. And yet somehow forgot all about Jamie's fucking bear snores. God damn it...


End file.
